Watching From Another Life
by Mr.BaseballBat
Summary: Flora is... not as she seems somehow. Bonding between rivals and maybe even more. Cross-dressing. Could be DonxLayton. No shame. Feedback would be lovely, thank you. Summary sucks portable chairs because I can't say much without giving the whole plot away (and there is more to it than the obvious). There will be some puzzles for you guys, too :) No idea what genres this falls into.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, I know that I should be working on Sleeping Beauty _and _I know that I promised that SB was the last one before exams buuuut I'm in the middle of exams, so that's okay, isn't it? I couldn't help myself anyway. I just. Couldn't.

* * *

"Professor! Help!" A shrill cry erupted from below the Professor's study, which had now come to life upon hearing the desperate plea. The Professor and Luke, who had been relaxing and listening to Elgar's Cello Concerto, now abandoned their cups of tea and newspapers as they scrambled from the office. Outside, they heard a car door slam shut which made them sprint all the more faster. Approaching the final steps, the Professor cast his composed persona to the side as he leaped to the level floor and called out to Flora.

"Flora! Where are you?"

"The kitchen, Professor!" Luke pointed and dashed in the direction of immense heat.

"Oh no..." Professor Layton murmured as he tailed Luke to the kitchen. Upon arriving, they both halted, forbidden from entering by the wall of fire. The Professor called out again, desperately, "Flora, are you in there!"

"Please help!"

A moments hesitation before he leaped through the fire and warned Luke to stay where he was. Once inside the spacious kitchen, the Professor immediately found his adopted daughter among the roaring fires. She was backed against the worktop opposite the cooker with her eyes tightly closed and her hands drawn up to her face in terror.

Quickly, he ran to her, avoiding the fires that were dotted about the floor and ripping through the walls. He softly held her shoulders to be sure to not surprise her but she made no reaction. Worried, he ran through all the best ways of getting them out of there quickly and safely. The window? No, the glass would surely be troublesome to break and could put them in danger. The door into the living room? No, the fires would burst through and they could inhale a large amount of smoke, possibly rendering them unconscious, if they weren't careful.

No, the easiest and fastest way would be to go back through the fire. Picking Flora up delicately in a bridal-style manner, as she was mostly unresponsive to any gentle tugs, he made sure that she lay securely in his arms as she became heavier when her consciousness wavered dangerously. But surely, she mustn't have been that heavy... He ran and held Flora to himself tightly when he lunged through the fire that had only grown since him and Luke had arrived at it's barrier.

Staying true to his word, Luke had stayed put, albeit nervously, when Layton jumped into what he depicted as hell. Coughing quietly and unobtrusively, the Professor lay Flora down on the ground until he could find better accommodation for her and the strength to carry her. Luke rushed over to her as she roused loudly. She began wheezing and rasping. Luke began speaking to her in rushed tones in an attempt to keep her awake while the Professor located the closest fire extinguisher in the hall.

As the Professor shrank the fires down to simple ashes efficiently, Luke was still talking at Flora who wasn't responding with words, just fitful coughs and glazed-over eyes. Once the fires where eliminated, the Professor rushed back, picked the small girl up, ran to her room. When he lay her down on her bed, she opened her eyes again.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't mean it." She whispered helplessly. The Professor smiled and placed his hand on her shoulder gently.

"My dear girl, there is no need to apologise. It was a simple mistake."

Flora smiled again and sat up carefully against his protests. She outstretched her arms to the Professor and watched with delight when he happily reciprocated the gesture.

"I'm just glad that you're safe, Flora." He felt how her hold around his neck tightened and how she leaned against him with trust.

* * *

He felt bad leaving her in the house all alone. Every time the Professor and his apprentice would explore London's vast selection of challenging and equally intriguing puzzles, his mind would drift back to Flora and how she was doing. But unfortunately, there was nothing to be done. The world outside of their house was far more dangerous than inside. After the small hiccup in the kitchen he would regularly check on Flora throughout the day but a couple of days after, when he was convinced that Flora wouldn't be doing any cooking unsupervised, him and Luke were able to solve the mysteries that shrouded London.

Yesterday, the Professor had to leave in the early hours of the morning and returned home after a tiring day of lecturing at Gressenheller University. Luke was at the police station speaking with Barton about the latest dubious cases so the quiet was to be expected. However, he was usually greeted minutes or even seconds later by Flora who would then brew a cup of tea for the both of them and discuss their day. This particular time, though, he was not.

"Flora?" He called as he advanced further into the house. Checking the windows on the way, all locked- he noted, he came to the kitchen. No signs of a recent fire and still no sign of Flora. Perplexed, the Professor went to leave the house in search of her when the sound of a closing door echoed through the rooms with a small questioning greeting following in its wake. Relief crashed into the Professor as he met Flora halfway and took the bags from her cold and petite hands.

"Ah. Shopping, I see. I almost went off in search of you, my girl." His tone was not chastising yet it held a stern element of parental concern that rang through its words. Flora cast her eyes downwards and was about to apologise when the Professor carefully placed the bags on the floor and place his hands on her shoulders.

"I apologise. Forgive me, Flora." He felt her muscles immediately relax under his touch.

"Of course I'll forgive you, Professor. After all, it is the lady-like thing to do."

* * *

As Flora sat on her colourful bed, she inspected her hands, traced the creases on her palms. After a considerable amount of time and a quick glance out of her window to the starry night, she nodded to herself with determination. Retrieving the hidden case under her bed, Flora opened the window and expertly scaled the wall down to the dew-covered grass.

She walked towards the Laytonmobile. Once seated inside, behind the wheel, her hand reached up to her face. It tugged at the skin, almost regretfully at first but increasing in freneticism. After a short while, she grew agitated and eventually ripped her skin.

Well, _his_ skin.

A rubber mask was held carefully in petite hands that were soon ripped off like gloves. The appendages and mask alike were thrown onto the passenger seat as the driver removed the constricting clothing. _Ahh... It feels good to finally relax._

Don Paolo's eyes closed momentarily in bliss as he removed the tiny shoes from his feet. Everything was thrown onto the passenger seat before Don looked at the house that held the man who had been so kind to him. Even though it wasn't the Great Don Paolo that Layton had been nice to, it was his adopted daughter, it still felt nice to be treated like... a human being once in a while. If Layton had seen through his disguise then he had definitely kept his discovery well-hidden. He didn't exactly _want_ to part ways because when he returned the kid after borrowing her life for a couple days she would most definitely blab and then Layton would think he was even weirder.

He could bribe or threaten her but when she was in the safety of _his_ house, she wouldn't miss out a single detail. Maybe he could pose as her for just a little longer...? Satisfied, he started up the Laytonmobile as quietly as he could and drove to his current hideout; a comfortable council house in the suburbs of London. A fair distance away from Layton's and the police stations, of course. Up till now, Don hadn't done anything _bad_ to the kid except for kidnap her and he even made frequent trips to feed and check up on her. Like yesterday, for example, when Layton came home and couldn't find him- _Flora_- anywhere. He had miscalculated the time it took to tie the kid down to the chair for a second time in five minutes because she tried running away.

He shook his head as he remembered the hug Layton had given him. A while ago, after Claire left for a second time, he realised something. He hadn't been pining for the attention of her. He wanted- no, _needed_ to be noticed by Layton all those years ago and now all these years, too. At first, it was definitely competition but soon after... he didn't know- something just changed. He disliked him for a long time, lets just say. But, hate? Denial can be a dangerous thing for the mind to experience. Maybe it was this that he was feeling but the only way he could make sense of anything would be to seek vengeance and declare war on the man who never noticed him, like he always had. On the man that he... could now slightly tolerate after allying with him.

His mind had once again travelled too far. He was sitting in the drivers seat outside of his destination. Clearing his head with the ripe morning air, he quickly rushed into his house with his case to find Flora asleep on the bed. Wait... hadn't he put her in a chair before he left? Nevermind, he thought. Resisting the urge to slap her and wake her up, Don bent over and poked her arm.

Unsurprisingly, she was an incredibly light-sleeper. She woke with a start but softened her gaze when Don continued to peer down at her harshly. _Hmph, I think she's starting to trust me. Stupid girl._

She yawned momentarily behind a slender hand and bid her captor a good morning.

"Good morning? Good morning?! That's all you have to say after I wrestled you into that chair with you kicking and slapping at me?" He began to seethe on the outside but on the inside, he knew that this was, and would be, a normal day. So did she, somehow. She rolled her eyes and sat up elegantly. He needed to mimic that the next time Layton saw him wake up as the kid.

"You didn't expect me to sleep in a chair, did you?" She asked in her usual quiet tone.

"I don't care!" He proclaimed, jumping away in feigned frustration. He retrieved a bag of food from his grey case and threw it in her general direction. It landed several feet away from the bed and Don made no move to pick it up and be a gentleman as he pillaged his case for anything else. She sighed and left the bed to find her food for the day when she became curious.

"Why have you kept me here so long? You don't normally bring food... well, the other times before this one. And I've been here for..." She looked to the boarded up windows and couldn't tell if it was even night or day, "So, why?" It was an innocent question but Don did _not_ want to answer it. He was a little more concerned with how calmly she was taking this. It was a kidnapping, why did she have to be so unnervingly collected!

"It's none of your business, brat." He hoped the small insult would deter her. But, his luck as a villain never seemed to change, did it?

"Well, I'm the victim, so it is my business, Mister." She stated matter-of-factly. He checked his watch and sighed.

"If you stay here the rest of the day, I'll tell you. But you have to stay here, kid."

"I promise!" Her eyes lit up as she clapped her hands, excited to hear the secret at the end of the day. She bid farewell as he rushed out of his humble house again to the Laytonmobile. Only when she heard the engine start up did she check what was in the bag. She gasped loudly and mentally thanked Don Paolo for the first time in her life.

"Cookies!"


	2. Chapter 2

Next chapter, yay! Please point out any mistakes or just anything in general that could use improvement. You're the readers so it's your experience. I'm not asking for reviews simply for the number, I couldn't care less, but what I do care about is how I can improve. Be mean, don't be mean, it doesn't matter but I would prefer some tough criticism. Dialogue, keeping characters tied to their strings, anything.

Also, I highly reccommend that you watch Professor Layton and Don Paolo: A Whole New World. It completed my life very nicely.

Don gets all pissy in this chapter. He's such a square. Enjoy!

* * *

Checking her appearance in the mirror of the bathroom, Flora seemed satisfied with how she looked. She stepped out into the hallway of the Layton household and picked up her case quietly before settling herself in her room. She sighed, looked out to the early dawn from her window. Focusing on her hands again, she thought about what would happen. When she heard light knocking she hid the case beneath her bed again and inquired with a whisper who was at the door. Luke's head emerged from the open doorway with a smile.

"Why aren' you in bed?" He asked curiously.

"Oh, I couldn't sleep for long. I feel like something's bothering me." Flora mused quietly. Luke smiled and advanced further into the room.

"Wha' is it, Flora?" She inwardly chuckled as she thought about how Luke_ trusted_ her enough to think that these thoughts were hers.

"I don't know. Maybe I'm over-thinking? Maybe I should try to relax..." She thought aloud.

"Leave it to me!" Luke shouted. Flora's eyes widened and she jumped with fright. Covering her friend's mouth, she hissed loudly.

"Not so loud, Luke! You'll wake the Professor!"

"Sorry, Flora... But, I was thinkin', what if we all spent the day together?" He mumbled behind her hands. She removed her hands and dusted her dress. Flora smiled softly and spoke even more so.

"I'd love that."

* * *

Exhausted after a whole day of being a kid, a girl even, Don Paolo easily removed his disguise without hesitation. He sighed with relief and laid back against the Laytonmobile's driver's seat. It had been... nice to spend the day with Layton but him and the kid were still incredibly distasteful, according to Don. After an almost-nap, Don Paolo snapped to attention and eyed the grey case that he'd brought with him again. Dreading his destination for several reasons, Don hesitantly started the car up and drove away from Layton's with a final look at the house's dark windows.

He had no idea what to tell Flora. He'd promised to tell her about why he was acting in her place but a promise had no meaning. People used the idea of promises to keep other's happy or quiet. A promise held no authority over those who used it and only those naive to put their trust in those people would only be disappointed with the outcome: the anti-climax, the dull reward received or no reward at all. Only the foolish would trust a promise-breaker who claimed to be a maker. Only the foolish would trust their regular captor.

All the promises Don had made and broken in his life and those that were promised to him skimmed the surface of his memories as he briefly looked over them. Finished with his reminiscing, Don's thoughts turned to how he was going to handle Flora. He could make an excuse; he had plenty. In fact, he could say nothing at all and hope she forgot about it. Even if she did want to talk about it he could ignore her. Simple!

As he arrived at his street and pulled over, Don gritted his teeth. Gathering his wits, he exited the car with his grey case, let himself into his terraced house, turned on the lights. His possessions were few and far between and the only thing that had travelled with him from his various hideouts was the chair that Flora was _supposed_ to be tied to. Once again, however, she had set herself free. He sighed and rubbed his face with exasperation. Hopefully, she hadn't taken to the fields yet.

Carefully, he ventured further into the house, wary of traps. He passed the small bed to the tiny kitchen that could only really hold one person at a time. Opening the door and expecting a brick to the face, Don was verily surprised. Flora was standing by the worktop, cramped, in actuality, patiently stirring the tea gushing in the fine china. Upon hearing the entry and the hoarse "Huh?", she turned to face Don with a smile.

"I made tea. Would you like some?" Don stood still but eyed the cups cautiously. Flora's shoulders slumped.

"I didn't do anything to them." She drank from one of the cups and smiled sweetly, "See?"

His stance illustrated the perfect picture of pure suspicion as he nodded towards the other china.

"What about that one?"

"Well, a lady never drinks from another's tea. It's rude."

"I don't care. Drink it."

Flora's eyebrows raised in defeat at the stern command as she placed her own teacup down, picked the other up. She turned to face Don and looked him in the eye as she sipped.

Satisfied, Don reluctantly nodded and took the cup from her as he stepped into the kitchen. She squeaked with surprise when Don downed the whole substance and threw the cup into the unused sink, smashing upon impact. Swiftly turning, Don withdrew from what could hardly even be called a kitchen. Flora recovered after a long moment, picked up her tea and followed.

* * *

"So," Flora started quietly, quite literally ripping through the silence with some effort as she watched Don eating cold noddles from a paper cup, "What was it that you were going to tell me?" She sipped from her tea carefully and looked about the room. Excluding the couch that they were using, the room had no other furniture and the window opposite was boarded up, like the one in her 'room'. _Spacious,_ she thought.

Don didn't answer and seemed to eat all the more faster, eyes fixated on the remaining noodles- quickly depleting, they both mentally noted. She supposed that it was rude of her to ask someone something when they were eating so she waited patiently. However, when he finished, he stood abruptly, walked to the kitchen's bin from the old tattered couch that they were sharing. On his way back, he avoided the couch and vanished into the next room to retrieve his case. Upon doing so, he took out the necessary items and returned to the "lounge".

Once again, he threw a bag of food at Flora but kept a small bag for himself. Intrigued, Flora asked, "What's that?"

"Wha-?" Don was startled by the precipitous question but sighed and continued, "Oh. I'm stayin' the night. This is for you." He plucked a blanket and a poor excuse for a pillow from the bag and threw them at her too. Prepared, she caught them.

"But... what are they for?" Don stared at her mockingly.

"Well, _child_, they're for sleeping. Speaking of that, get to it." He left the lounge to her temporary room and laid himself down on the bed before calling out, "And don't try anything, brat."

Flora looked on with sadness at the events that occurred in the space of a few seconds. _He just took my bed..._ Rubbing the premature tears from her eyes she stood and followed her captor with determination. Opening the door just a crack, that he had slammed shut with his foot, she noticed that his eyes were open and gazing at the ceiling. Gathering courage she stepped through the doorway.

"You're not even sleeping, Mister."

Don groaned and threw an arm over his eyes in a poor attempt of blocking her out.

"Go. Away."

"No. If you won't be a gentleman and you "don't care" for manners in this house then, no, I won't leave." She couldn't have apologised enough to the Professor in her mind for that sentence.

This encouraged another deep groan of irritation which only fuelled her rising anger.

"What was the secret anyway? If you tell me, I'll leave."

A moment's hesitation. "You'll leave?"

"I promise."

Ugh, that word again. Don knew all to well how these things played out. He would confide in someone to fulfil a promise or be promised something in return but it always turned out for the worst. Even he played the game a few times. He was playing it with the kid, when he thought about it.

"You'll leave straight after this, okay? No questions. Nothing." Flora nodded enthusiastically and held the doorknob to show that she would do as she was told. Don breathed deeply.

"I have herpes."

...

"Why must you lie to me?" Flora snapped loudly.

"Hey, it's called a secret for a reason. Now get out brat." He turned away.

"No!"

"Kid..." Don warned as he faced her again.

"N-no."

"That's it! Do you want to sleep in the chair? I paid money for that stuff back there and you're not gonna use it? How ungrateful!" He yelled.

"Ungrateful! You think _I'm_ ungrateful?"

"Yes! Now either get out of my face and sleep on the sofa, or get out of my face and sleep on the chair! Your choice!" He faced the wall again.

A few seconds passed before he heard a sniffle and it was all he could do not to turn around. Great, the kid was crying.

"And I was starting to trust you." She cried softly as she disappeared behind the door.

"You don't wanna trust me, kid." He said gruffly. He didn't care whether she heard it or not.


	3. Chapter 3

Hopefully, after this chapter the story can move along. This chapter doesn't feel right to me, however. If something seems off, can you spot it and tell me? Thank you for reading this quiet lurkers, and I should be able to get the next chapter out soon.

* * *

Flora sighed as she unravelled the loose ropes 'tied' around her, sealing her to the chair. Don didn't seem to even be trying anymore. The ropes fell to the floor with a dull thud as she simply rolled her shoulders and stood from the extremely uncomfortable seat. She remembered just a few hours ago when Paolo had somehow carried her to the chair without her knowing. Usually, even the smallest sound woke her from her sleep. Only when the front door has been slammed shut, Flora was startled to consciousness. Maybe it was because she had been crying all night; her eyes still felt slightly puffy.

That morning was different though. Instead of having to wait for Paolo to get back in the evening to feed herself, as there was nothing edible in the kitchen, she located a large grey bag, much like Paolo's disguise case, on the floor in front of her. Upon opening said bag, food was revealed. After the week (she guessed) that Flora had been cooped up, she (and most likely Don as well, if the amount of food was suggesting anything) had noticed the weight that she had lost. Not entirely noticeable because she was slim in the first place, but it was a looming factor nonetheless. He must have decided that the snacks weren't enough for a child, she concluded. She had to agree wholeheartedly as her stomach growled angrily (louder than the distant police sirens), enticed by the scent of the croissants, biscuits and tea bags.

Making quick work of the breakfast, Flora lay on the bed, satisfied. She reviewed the argument last night, her cool and collected front crumbled when her feelings on the matter blossomed onto her face. Flora's nose scrunched up in disgust of what he had said, "You don't wanna trust me, kid". She could admit to herself that she could be naive and even gullible but she was not one to throw trust around lightly. She told him that she was starting to trust him but how could she have let her guard down like that? She felt even more childish. This was Don Paolo for goodness' sake- he would do anything to oppose anyone who held connections with Layton.

Flora agreed with the thought that Paolo had limited sympathy but he definitely had feelings, however crushed they may be. But if he had no trust, what sort of person would he be? Untrustworthy. But wouldn't she be as bad as him for not showing him trust? Maybe if she showed him kindness then he could at least learn to trust. He had obviously seen through her earlier 'kindness' and was even suspicious of her, but she was just trying to get home to the Professor faster. Evidently, that was not how the game was going to be played. She needed a different strategy.

Eyes lighting up with victory of an idea, Flora sat up abruptly, swung her legs over the bed with excitement. Just then, a loud crash sounded from the front door. Flora jumped up when Paolo fell through the doorway, the entrance almost knocking the door from its hinges. Just as quickly as it had happened, Paolo was on his feet and was locking the door with all kinds of bars. Although Flora was deadly silent as she watched, a tiny part of her was laughing at his arrival. She mentally scolded herself.

Paolo sighed after he caught his breath, turned around and leaned on the door with his eyes closed. The quiet was bliss until...

"M-Mister Paolo?"

Siiiiiiiigh.

"What." He ground out.

"Are you okay?" He heard the smallest tinge of amusement and ignored it. In fact, he actually thought about the question.

"Yes. Getting chased by the police is the best thing about my day." Flora didn't understand if he was being sarcastic or not, especially when he put the old lady voice on. She made a small smile at his antics, however, as she became used to his sense of humour.

"Oh. What happened?"

"They saw me in that crappy car driving to your '_father's_'," He sneered at the word, "And chased me down. Lucky for me, my first hideout is around here so I just led them there." His eyes narrowed and looked to the side, "Actually, we might have to leave soon and find somewhere else, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Flora nodded absentmindedly. The sparse place was starting to grow on her, in actuality.

"I'd never be able to make an escape like that." The comment was solitary and had a distant air about it. While she was trying to be nice to her captor, the remark held some truth to it. Paolo picked up on the scent.

"Really." He pushed himself off of the door and walked past the small girl to the kitchen. Once inside, he emptied his pockets of food onto the worktop and began stacking the shelves for the first time in the three months that he had lived there. Hearing the rustling, Flora followed and had to restrain herself when she glimpsed all of the food. Paolo turned and acknowledged her shortly before slowly handing her a _damnable sweet _cookie. He handed it over without hesitation.

She started slightly before taking it from his hand with the likeness of a curious squirrel.

"What? No thanks? Damn, I thought you were Layton's protégé, as well." He stated brusquely.

"O-oh, yes. Thank you, Mister Paolo." She said sweetly before she nibbled the treat. Paolo raised an eyebrow and went back to stacking food into cupboards.

"Where did you get all of this from?"

"Stole it."

Flora almost spat the cookie out but she pretended that she hadn't heard him, it was just too good to pass up for Flora, and walked into the lounge, sat on the couch, feeling rather guilty with herself. Paolo joined her after awhile and pointed his thumb behind him to the kitchen, "That stuff's for you but try to ration it. I can probably get some more tonight but I don't know."

Flora instantly brightened and stood with a heartfelt 'thank you' following it. Paolo looked to the couch and pouted.

"Eh, I may as well stay here a bit longer. They're probably still trying to find me." He sat next to Flora who recoiled faintly. Just when he thought he had to break the ice, Flora spoke up.

"I want to make a deal with you."

"If you wanna leave, that's a no go." He said as he laid back and inspected his hidden fingernails.

"No, that's not it. It's something else." Flora prodded as she vaguely hinted at what she wanted. Paolo looked at her sceptically. She sighed.

"I'll stay here as long as it takes while you play as me for whatever it is that you want."

Paolo did not expect that. Not in the least. He expected her to want to leave but word her deal differently. This was the complete opposite. He considered it for a moment before asking, "What would that include?"

"You don't have to keep coming back to feed me- I can fend for myself." By this point, Flora was just plain upset that she had to explain this to everyone she met. She held his level gaze until he broke. Not that long in actuality.

"I'll get some more food tomorrow and that should tide you over until I get back." Flora grinned happily. Then it stretched to a predatory gaze.

"Now to discuss what I want in return," She paused, "You have to tell me this secret."

In response to Paolo's quick protests, Flora raised her hand and stated calmly, "You don't have to tell me straight out. It has to be a puzzle."

Paolo rolled his eyes, "Obviously. What happens if you don't figure it out?"

"... Hm. Then I'll never know what it is. I have the same amount of time to find it out that you have to finish your business as me."

"And what happens if you _do_ figure it out?" He asked.

"You let me go."

Paolo paused for a moment, then threw a fit of anger as he bounded about the room. Somehow, his dance of frustration led him to stand in front of Flora. He hesitated, still trembling with vexation, before offering his hand sharply and spitting his agreement with disgust.

"Deal."

* * *

Okay, so, I'm feeling a little better so I've tried to neaten these up with little changes but if there's anything else, let me know. Also, I have no idea if Paolo is British or American. His accent keeps changing in the games so I've just decided that he's American. If you have evidence that he is, in fact, British, let me know and I'll sort his accent out.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four! I like this chapter.

* * *

"I have a request though, Mister Paolo." Flora played with the frayed hem of her collar idly. When Paolo gave her a frustrated sideways glance, she assured, "It's only small."

His silence gave her permission.

"May I see the Professor and Luke once more? I don't know how long I will be here, so I just want to see them for a day."

The scoff she received was the only answer that she needed but Paolo indulged her with a short explanation, "No. You'll try to escape or you'll alert them. You can't see 'em."

"I won't! What about if I see them... from a distance? Would that be okay?" She asked tentatively. Paolo's jaw visibly clenched.

"Fine. I'll drop by tonight and I'll get some food for you as well."

The front door was slammed shut before she could thank him.

* * *

Flora's eyes widened in shock before she saw pitch black and heard the silver spoon from her teacup fall to floor. She felt a loud throbbing pain in her head before she hit the cool surface of the wooden flooring.

* * *

Don had arrived at Layton's house earlier than expected. Strangely there were no police lurking around the corners to intercept him so it made his journey that much easier. Before he left, he gave Flora the puzzle she had asked for. He gave her a quick riddle and watched with sick pleasure when her face twisted in confusion. It was unrefined, he decided when he departed, but it would do: "I can be purchased or bartered for. I can be promised yet I will never promise. I can be used and I will use. I cannot be locked away yet I can lock others away. What is it that those desire most? It is I."

He hadn't intended for it to be a riddle, but there weren't many other choices that would allow her to think that she had enough time to figure it out without being able to. If Flora knew what he wanted, though he was certain that she already had an inkling, then she would surely inform her precious _Professor_. Bah, there was no sense in thinking about it, Don thought to himself, she wouldn't get it in time- especially if he made the whole ordeal quick.

With that in mind, he awkwardly changed into his Flora disguise in the Laytonmobile. The truth was, he'd completely forgotten to change back at the house. He supposed that it saved the trouble of having to deal with Flora freaking out at seeing her double, though she knew who it was. Careful not to hit the horn while changing, he became another rather quickly. Flora stepped out from the Laytonmobile with her grey case that held Don's clothes and climbed the wall to her room with the open window.

Upon entering she hid the case and made her way downstairs, feigning yawns as she passed the Professor's room, if in case he was awake. However, when Flora walked into the kitchen area, now completely refurbished after the accident that she caused, Luke was hunched over the dining table and the Professor was pacing the space between the cooker and the worktop where she had been huddled all those days ago.

Flora cleared her throat and drew immediate attention to herself.

"Where have you been?" Hershel demanded sternly. Flora only gaped silently as she looked between the two, Luke having stood from his seat promptly.

"Well?" Luke urged, equally angry as the Professor. She had no idea what to say, Don hadn't thought about this.

"Um, well, I was out." The Professor's cheek caved as he bit the inside of it with frustration.

"Of course, Flora, but _where_ were you?" Flora cleared her throat again.

"I was out walking. I've a lot on my mind right now, Professor, so I thought that a walk would do me some good." She stated almost flawlessly if not for the small crack in her voice at the beginning. Still looking between them, she thought that they needed more.

"I didn't go far, Professor, you have my word!" She said desperately. It was all she could do to not wring her hands, an uncommon nervous habit of Dons. The Professor's gaze softened only slightly before he left her with a warning.

"Do not do that again, my girl. You've no idea how dangerous it can be- especially at these early hours. Now, do you need to speak with me about what is troubling you? I assure you that I will do only my best and more to help you, if this is what you must resort to."

"N-no, Professor."

"Well, if you need to, then you know where I am. Try to get some rest." He dismissed as he sat at the table and hid behind the large newspaper. Judging by the forlorn expression on Luke's face as he looked at his mentor, Flora mused that the Professor's face may have been similar. She left the kitchen for her room.

In some ways, she was glad to be sent to bed because she was exhausted, and hadn't had a wink of sleep last night. Then again, it was the _Professor_ who had sent her, the Great Don Paolo, to bed. Glad of the sight of the pink and orange bed, Flora got under the luscious covers happily. Though Don had stayed in the room for the past few days at night, whenever he checked up on Flora, he had slept there (much to the silent dismay of the kid when he took 'her' bed) and the bed didn't have any covers.

Thinking about the kid, Don wondered if she was okay...- When had that started happening? The questioning thought was banished, however, when he realised how naturally the feeling came to him. How natural it felt to worry about another's well-being. Obviously, she was his captive so he certainly had to have responsibility of her- he couldn't have her dying on him, could he now? But there was a more familiar feeling that walked with the thought. He didn't know, and if he didn't know then he definitely did not _want_ to know.

He wafted the obtrusive and somehow nostalgic notions away with the fingers of his mind, which soon grasped the remnants of sleep and clung to them strongly.

* * *

Flora was woken by Luke knocking on the door. When he entered, she roused elegantly, like how Don had seen Flora do the other day, and yawned behind a slender hand.

"Good morning, Luke."

"Oh, well, its rather afternoon!" Luke giggled, then continued, "We're leaving to go to the police station for any more leads on this case that we 'ave, so we made breakfast for you- it's downstairs. Bye!" Luke seemed to leave in a hurry. Damn, she was just about to ask about this new case, too.

She woke herself up properly, picked up her grey case, went downstairs. As soon as she was certain that the boys were gone, Flora ripped her face off again.

"Phew! Geez, that guy needs to buy the girl some pyjamas." Don muttered as he looked down at the dress that he was still in, before he changed into his usual outfit. With that done, he ate the neat breakfast laid out for him, drew a deep breath and changed into the disguise of an old lady. He left the house to the grocery store. This was going to be fun, he decided.

* * *

After successfully stealing her food, the old lady rushed back home. It was a hassle when citizens of fair London attempted to help her cross the road. Eventually, she arrived at the Layton household and emptied her pockets into bags while she slowly changed into Don. With only his shoes to change, the sound of a door closing reverberated through the whole house.

Don could have sworn he had never changed so fast in his life. He placed the grey case in the cooker.

As Luke stormed into the kitchen, Layton not far behind, he threw his satchel on the kitchen table and fell onto the nearest chair with a heaving sigh. Layton sat opposite with a greeting to Flora as she fixed her hair.

"My boy, don't get yourself so worked up. You are in the presence of a lady. Now, lets review our findings. If the police won't help us then we can only do our best." He said with a smile. Flora's attention was snatched from her hair to the police and "findings".

"What's this?" She asked quietly as she brewed three cups of tea.

"There's a kidnapper on the loose and the police won't do anything!" Luke fumed as he buried his head in his arms to muffle his anger.

"Oh? Who's been taken?" Flora stirred the tea.

"Five girls. Another today- well, its presumed. A witness reported seeing her being dragged to a car. So it's six now. Terrible, really." The Professor explained. He intertwined his fingers on the table.

"... And why won't the police help? That's pretty serious, if you ask me." Flora sat at the table with the cups of tea.

"Because they're ar-!"

"Luke!"

"... Sorry, Professor. I just get carried away with things like th-" Luke paused as he peered down at his cup of tea.

"Flora? I hate tea. I thought you knew that?" Flora swallowed and smiled sweetly.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I was just so wrapped up in what you were telling me! Um... what would you like?" She flustered.

"Erm... coffee? Like always?" Luke said in a rather dubious tone.

"Right! Just a minute." She stood and prepared the coffee, "Carry on, please."

Luke glanced at the Professor but his eyes were focused on his hands, now travelling to his chin. He leaned his elbows on the table and rested his chin atop his manus.

"Yes, well, tha' was it, really." Luke concluded disjointedly.

"Oh... that was b- nice!" Flora quickly corrected her small insult. She was _not_ having a good day. The Professor's eyes tightened when Luke began digging through his satchel. Slowly, Layton turned to observe the girl. She was leaning over the counter with the cup between her hands, her elbows supporting her and one leg bent. He turned back to his original position.

"Here you are, Luke." She handed him his coffee and sat down, drank her tea quickly and quietly, was done within a matter of seconds. Flora stood with urgency and dusted her skirt.

"Excuse me, but I must be going, I'm still rather sleepy. Thank you very much for the food." She all but ran out of the kitchen.

The Professor hummed in deep thought and stood. He replaced Flora's space by the counter and asked Luke, "Luke, do you remember when we thought we travelled in time?"

Luke's head sprang up, alert, "O-of course I do!" He didn't want to say anything about Claire.

"And do you remember the friends that we made?"

"F-friends? Oh, you mean Don Paolo and the like?" The Professor nodded.

"Tell me, Luke, who does this remind you of?"

The Professor leaned over the worktop with a spare glass between his hands, his elbows supporting him and one leg bent. To complete his puzzle, his head hung over the glass like a drunk. Luke snapped his fingers.

"Don Paolo!"

"Indeed." The Professor stated somewhat gravely.

"Why?"

"No reas-"

The sound of glass breaking drew the attention of the two kitchen occupants to outside. They rushed out of the front door to see a car belonging to the house opposite shrieking with defeat for the window had been smashed. They gasped simultaneously and rushed over to the vandalised car to investigate it, like other neighbours, careful to avoid the aggressive shards of glass scattered across the floor.

Meanwhile, Flora rushed down the stairs to the kitchen's cooker and retrieved the grey case, before sprinting upstairs again. She looked out her open window to the car directly opposite. _Nice throw_, she thought smugly. She grimaced after a while of watching the people mill about the car; they didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon. She pouted and decided sullenly that her journey was going to a long one. Don apologised to his feet trapped in the tiny shoes before sneaking out of the back door to his house.

* * *

Oh, a kidnapper! And it's not Don? What?! Chapter five may be awhile because I have no idea what's going to happen next. Sploops!

You can try to figure the riddle out if you like.


	5. Chapter 5

Hello dear lurkers. This chapter was a little difficult to write but that's just because Don gets all weird. Also, there are four new characters, all mine so don't sue but, my goodness gracious. Franca! You'll see her strange... quirk, but that's just because I love the language, you can translate it yourself if you want to but the characters will basically translate for her or she'll just comment on things that have already been said.

Enjoy.

* * *

Don finally arrived at his street and proceeded to remove his shoes and continued walking bare foot. Though the material that held him together as Flora was incredibly tight, just removing the shoes brought a lot of relief. Even if the people in his street glimpsed him in this state, he doubted that they would spare more than a glance at the girl; after all, there were a lot of strange people in this area, Don included. He arrived at the black door and let himself in, dropped his case to the floor nonchalantly.

"Kid! Come on, we gotta go." Don called as he inspected the chair and bed. No sign of Flora. Oh, she was probably on the couch. He advanced into the next room to see no such thing.

"Kid? Do you wanna see 'em or not?" Don called louder. His eyes widened in pain when he stepped on several sharp objects. He bit his curses back as he inspected his foot. _Phew!_ The broken shards of china seemed to only just penetrate the material but there weren't any deep wounds. He carefully extracted the pieces and brushed them under the couch. Out of sight: out of mind, he thought happily.

Then, it dawned on him. Why was there broken china on the floor? Did something happen, or...

Oh shit. Ohshitohshitohshit.

Don ran to the kitchen and found no annoying brat. His hands went straight to his head in distress as his eyes scavenged every nook and cranny. _'__She... She escaped! That damned brat!'_ Don's vision blurred for a moment when he rushed back to the front door and he stumbled slightly. The dizziness wore off when he shook his head blearily.

He picked up his case slowly and clumsily changed into a different disguise, one that he kept for spying. He began to chuckle to himself for no reason in particular. He dropped the case without closing it and stumbled out of the door, knocking Flora's chair to the floor on his way with a dull clatter. He didn't bother to close the door behind him.

Don hesitated before he leaped over a concrete slab and began singing merrily, "Step on a crack, break your mother's back!" as he avoided other cracks in the concrete pavement. A voice to his right caught his sluggish attention and he noticed an elderly couple. He grinned and made his way over to them.

"It was terrible, really. I couldn't even do anything... She was such a pretty little girl too. I just hope that he doesn't take any more children. Such a shame, tsk." The senior lady spoke softly with melancholy, paused, then said, "I knew there was something curious about that house, as well. Boarded-up windows..." The lady's voice trailed off into the distance as Don ceased movement.

He felt like he should remember something. There was something there. There was something... behind him! Don spun around quickly to see his house but no one was there. He heard rustling to his left. He jumped away in surprise and bolted down the street.

* * *

After the incident with the neighbour's car, Hershel and Luke had headed back inside the house. Though Luke was perplexed that someone had willingly broken an innocent person's car, Hershel wasn't too surprised. Certainly, he didn't condone the action but he considered it only small, especially for the culprit involved. Well, who he assumed to be the culprit.

Luke immediately went to the kitchen to eat as soon as he stepped over the threshold but Hershel made his way upstairs. Though he had a working theory, for once, he hoped that he was going to be proven incorrect. Alas, he opened the door of her room. Hershel observed the empty room with a calculated grimace. He took careful steps and advanced further into the cold. Just before his fingers could grasp the cool material of Flora's bed covers, Hershel turned sharply and marched from the room. As ever, Luke was at his side when he called for him. They left the house, Layton determined and Luke confused.

The boy had enough sense to not pester his mentor about what was troubling him but he guessed that it was something about Flora. He only spoke when the Professor made infrequent comments on the surroundings to which Luke would either agree or made some sort of noise of agreement. He had guessed where they were headed at an early stage but when they turned the corner and saw the police station, his suspicions were confirmed. Following the Professor's lead, Luke stormed through the double doors.

However, before he closed the doors after the abrupt (and quite frankly, rude) entrance, Luke heard a shrill cry. Intrigued and fairly irritated with the Professor's bad mood, Luke turned around to inspect the noise further. At first, he found nothing out of the ordinary and squinted his eyes in hopes of finding something. Then, a figure. It was too far away for Luke to recognise who it was so he waited and stepped forward, just barely hearing the Professor ask the receptionist for Inspector Chelmey at an uncharacteristically level of rudeness. Finally, Luke was able to distinguish an old man running towards him.

Wait... an old man running? That was odd- he was most definitely over sixty. Luke inwardly cheered the man on for being so fit at that age but it was still incredibly peculiar. Wait, if he was running to a police station... maybe he was in trouble! Luke called the Professor, leaped down the few steps and was about to meet the man halfway but as soon as the now-seemingly deranged man caught sight of him, he halted abruptly and almost lost his balance.

With the man stood still and staring, Luke was able to study his features. He became frightened.

The elderly man's eyes were wide open and red, unblinking. He was sweating profusely and his deep breaths almost sounded like groans as the lapped up air assaulted his pharynx. Luke was frozen in place, unaware of what to do. When he heard the Professor advancing down the steps, calling him, Luke stepped back in fear. The man before him grew incredibly agitated. His eyes shifted to every moving object, resultant of the wind or free will, and finally only between Luke and Hershel.

After a moment of this, the elderly chap moved away quickly with a sharp cry of frustration. His hands travelled to his face and began scratching dangerously before he took off in a different direction. Luke was still standing there rigid and motionless when the Professor ran past him, tailing the old man.

"Wait!" Hershel shouted when the man turned a sharp corner. His dash was cut short when he stood on some sort of rubber. He bent down and inspected it.

"This is..." He had no time. The man he was chasing had suddenly shrieked.

"Too hot! Hothothothot!" Picking the item up, Hershel began to sprint in the direction of the seemingly-plagued-with-demons character. The chase, in fact, did not last long for either man. The old man had been cornered in an alley. Not only was it a disturbing experience for the prey involved but it was for Hershel as well. His suspicions were indeed correct. The item he picked up earlier was none other than the man's mask who sat huddled before him. The Professor could clearly see who it was, Don Paolo, but his behaviour was extremely out of the ordinary- for Paul anyway.

He was murmuring things in rushed tones and focusing his eyes on everything frantically, though his body movements were slow. When the Professor stepped closer, Paolo's voice rose only slightly and he seemed to be repeating that he was too hot. Before the Professor could advance, Paolo began stripping his disguise. He visibly calmed when he noticed that he was in his own dear clothes but his behaviour didn't change. From his huddled position he pulled his knees to his chest and began sobbing with no tears.

"C-Claire..."

The Professor's ears perked up at this and he took one more doubtful step towards Paolo, who stiffened immediately and fixed his eyes on the man in front of him. Well, the two men in front of him. Wow! They were identical twins! Paolo giggled at this thought but when the two men advanced he stood too quickly that his head began to hurt.

"Get away! Stop pulling on me!" Paolo shouted indignantly when he wrapped his arms around himself, "Stop twisting me!"

Before the Professor could do anything, Paolo held his head tightly as he fell to the floor with no further movement.

Taking this opportunity, the Professor rushed towards Paul and managed to pick him up, keeping him over his shoulder. By now, Luke had only just arrived at the entrance to the alley way, breathless. The boy leaned on the wall for support and noticed Paolo over the Professor's shoulder. He was about to ask what happened but Hershel looked far too worn out. He held his tongue when his mentor passed him and sharply handed him the mask but he followed the Professor home.

* * *

Flora groaned as she roused. Her head pulsed with the immediate pain and complete awareness of her body. Her eyes fluttered open and revealed her surroundings. The dizzy feeling of falling off of a chair wasn't just a feeling; she was leaning forward on a small chair with her chest resting on her knees. Flora's arms led to behind the chair and was a prominent factor as to why she hadn't fallen to the ground just yet, although the strain of her weight had taken its toll on her muscles while she was unconscious. Her feet were in an awkward position, pointing inwards but tucked under the chair completely. She righted her posture but was extremely upset that she couldn't sort the position of her feet out.

Flora's hair was dishevelled and her heavy breathing that rocked her body back and forth only loosened it from it's band. Her breathing went from heavy to laboured in only a short moment as she regained her senses. Her vision was unreliable because she was in a dark environment but that only heightened her other senses. The rope which tied her wrists and ankles together burned whenever she moved. A distinct odour lurked in the air, she guessed that it was sweat and other various waste products combined. She could hear not only her gasping, but there seemed to be others all around her. A strange taste in her mouth made itself known when she swallowed and it lingered below her tongue.

She tried to focus on one stimulus at a time but her senses were far too sensitive to allow that. After a while, Flora's eyes adjusted to the darkness and her immediate alarm of danger was dropped slightly. She concentrated on the flavour of the dilute substance that persisted its presence in her mouth. It tasted of... sage? Herbs? She couldn't tell as it wasn't a familiar savour to her.

However, all thought ran silent when she heard a cough. It wasn't a cough that demanded attention or an action to make the owner known, it was more of a hack. By this point, her mind was screaming its alarm again. A moment later, she heard a small voice.

"Who's there?" It rasped. Flora was unable to determine if the possessor was male or female or even what age group they belonged to. Her throat closed up.

"Franca, ¿quién es ese?" Another voice. It sounded... Spanish.

"Emily. Is there anyone else here?" The voice that Flora now labelled as Emily asked. She opened her mouth.

"Brigitte." Flora had no idea where this girl was from; she had never heard that accent before.

"... Flora." Flora whispered. There was silence and Emily asked a more confident question.

"There's no one else here? Well, that's good, I suppose... Do you know why we're here?"

"I don't know, I vas viz my mozer vhen I vas taken...", Brigitte spoke with uncertainty, clearly not confident with her English or her accent but Flora could certainly hear the sadness in her foreign voice, "I vonder how she is..."

"Yo estaba con mi tía. No sé qué pasó con ella, pero la oí gritar antes de desmayarse." Franca commented quickly. Flora didn't even try to translate any of it.

"Erm... what about you Flora?" Emily asked in her raspy tone, "I was taken from my father. It may be a hard question to answer, I understand, I really do, but who were you taken from? It seems that our captor only kidnaps children like us from our guardians. I hope to come to terms with it, I think that Brigitte and Franca are trying to right now, but that's because we've been here the longest. I heard you come in earlier." Emily finished her explanation with a wheezing cough.

"... I-I don't want to talk about it, E-Emily." Flora whispered. She couldn't eradicate the strange taste from her mouth, no matter how much she tried to.

"Flora, it helps to share what happened. That means that when we escape we'll know where to start looking." Emily stated hopefully.

"Escape?" Flora asked.

"Sí, escapar."

"Franca, can you understand us?" Flora asked.

"Strangely, she can. Franca has a talent for understanding English but she's unable to speak it. Indeed strange." Emily explained, uncertain of her statement.

"Es difícil hablar tu idioma, pido disculpas. Pero, sí, lo entiendo perfectamente."

"Right..."

All was silent in the room before Flora cleared her throat.

"My story is a peculiar one-" Flora started when beaming lights bore down on the sensitive eyes of those in the once dark room. She noticed only then that there were two other girls in the room who were unconscious.

"Ah, most of you are awake." A deep and almost hypnotic voice rang slowly through the room via speakers. It chuckled lightly.

"Good."

* * *

Oh damn! Don got freaky, the Professor's pissed off and Flora's been kidnapped! Stay tuned, I'm getting into this story.

Also, have any of you figured out the riddle?


	6. Chapter 6

Wow, chapter six!

Okay, I really need to address this issue. None of you are reviewing. I apologise, but I'm only asking for things that I can improve upon and I very much doubt that I need no improvements. I read and re-read these over and over before I publish them and there is always something that's missing. I have added techniques, scrapped them, added paragraphs, trashed 'em. Nothing works! But, if you would be so kind as to actually spot these things for me and suggest what I do to make everyone happy with these chapters, I would be eternally grateful to you. If you do review, and I have seriously lost all hope of that on this story, then at least make it worthwhile e.g. 'I think you need to add...' and then whatever. I honestly didn't think that I would have to leave a sample review starter for you but it's out there now.

Sorry for the rant but it had to be said. Enjoy.

* * *

Don's eyelids lifted easily. Though he felt that he would explode from his body temperature and was sweating copiously, Don didn't feel tired at all. He'd had an incredibly surreal dream last night and he was just glad to wake from it. He felt happy anyway, like a cloud that plagued him had been lifted- with him standing proudly on top of it. When Don's eyes closed in bliss, a small smile upon his lips, he felt a tiny prod against his shoulder. Unable to dismiss it, Don turned to the stimulus- Luke Triton. At that moment, he had no idea why he hated the boy so much. He smiled broadly.

"Luke! How are ya?" He greeted happily. Luke seemed baffled.

"...I-I'm good, thanks, Paolo?"

"That's good... that's good..." Don trailed off as he closed his eyes feeling incredibly content with the Universe. A muffled call from another room snapped them both to attention.

"Luke, is he awake yet?" Luke went to the other room and the Professor returned with him to see Don. He cleared his throat.

"Paul, do you remember anything of yesterday, anything at all?" The Professor asked politely.

"Hmm, no, 'fraid not. Why?" Don slurred.

"Well, it seems you were taken on a little... adventure."

"Adventure? Oh! You mean the adventure of life? Yes, yes I was." The Professor grimaced, he had no idea if they were on the same page or not.

"How do I put it..." Hershel mused quietly, raised his voice when he found his answer, "You were drugged. I'm not sure if it was intended or not and I don't think you are, either."

"Wait, wait. Drugged?" It seemed as though in only a moment, Don was pulled from his daze to suit his surroundings. The Professor nodded.

"You obviously don't remember so it's highly likely that you were the victim of this substance abuse. Tell me, Paul, do you trust me?"

Don grinned in a very strange manner and sat up properly. He opened his arms as if to say, 'Here I am', "Of course I do, old friend! Why wouldn't I?" Hershel seemed to be deep in thought and muttered a low "... Strange."

"Indeed, well then, I'm certain that you won't mind if you come along with us to your 'hideout'?"

"Not at all! Let's go!" Don jumped from the bed dramatically and beamed with utter completeness. The Professor hid his eyes under the brim of his hat with exhaustion. He had always known how to deal with an almost depressed Don Paolo; his mind was muddled by the new change of having to now deal with a happy and hyper Don Paolo. He sighed.

* * *

She didn't know how long they had been held captive for, but there had been four visits by the kidnapper, including the current one. Visits meaning the lights were switched on to an unbearable fluorescence level and the kidnapper would comment on their status of sleeping through the ghastly speakers. The visits came more or less periodically so Flora could only guess that they came everyday. On the other hand, the periods could simply be hourly. She had no sense of time any more.

One thing, however, was certain. There were six of them, not four. Each time the lights came on, the kidnapper would sound more disappointed than the previous visit but no matter how bright the lights were, they wouldn't wake. On several occasions the girls openly thought that the two children were dead but recently, one of them had woken.

"W-Where am I...?" It was a timid voice with a light Scottish accent. It seemed that the kidnapper valued diversity among his prisoners.

"What's your name?" Emily had asked, ever the confident one. After the girl was brought down from her immediate scare at the unknown voice, she began to talk. They found out her name, Anna, and that she was taken from her three brothers in an inn. After that, the group mused upon how the kidnapper was able to successfully steal them and why.

Suggestions were thrown about but they became darker and more frightening. Anna sobbed with disgust when she heard 'rape'. They never suggested anything after that.

Flora ran these small events through her mind as the kidnapper, once again, showed his displeasure of the last girl still sleeping. However, instead of cutting off with that, he stayed. He was silent so they could only assume that he was watching them. After what seemed like an incredibly uncomfortable half an hour of silence and bright lights, he spoke again, abruptly.

"You are all similar in many ways. But... why are you different? Tell me, which of you six girls is the odd one out?" They could all hear the smile in his voice. Flora managed to complete one glance of everyone in the room before the lights went out. This was a puzzle, Flora thought triumphantly, and voiced it just the same. The others agreed after a moment and set to work on finding the odd child of the group.

Emily chose the slumbering unknown girl because everyone else had been acquainted. Brigitte chose Franca because she was the only one who couldn't speak English. Franca chose Brigitte because she was the only foreign one who could speak English (translated by Emily, of course). Anna chose Emily because she was the most confident of them all. Flora hadn't decided. She found that odd in herself because as the others flustered with their reasons and tried to make them rational, she was calm. Instead, her mind drifted to the puzzle that Don Paolo gave to her.

... That was it! Don Paolo! Flora's head raised with an epiphany and though the others couldn't see she smiled broadly. She was the only one who had already been kidnapped before this happening. She was about to share her new discovery with the others when the lights were turned on abruptly, silencing them all.

"Have you decided, children? Which of you is the peculiar one? Oh, and something I failed to mention earlier. If you guess incorrectly, you will be sedated. I will give the victor two choices, and only two, for each of you. Her answer will decide if you live or die." The girls gasped and shrieked but the kidnapper's well-bred voice fed through the din with an exploding quality.

"Quiet!" As the girls quickly settled down, the kidnapper cleared his throat and continued in a lower voice, "Emily."

The girl looked at everyone else in fear and rasped, "Her. I don't know her name." She nodded her head towards the sleeping figure. The kidnapper clarified that her name was Anne-Marie before saying, "Franca."

"Brigitte." She said quietly. It continued in this order until the kidnapper said Flora's name.

"Myself." Unlike the other reactions, an interested hum was received. A sinister chuckle reverberated through the speakers fabric.

"Odd. I expected you all to be wrong. Well, a deal _is_ a deal, miladies." The lights flickered momentarily and Flora could see a single dangling oxygen mask. It was above only herself. She looked at the others in horror who reciprocated the gaze. Emily was the only one who nodded, the others either screamed for her to give the mask to them or to not wear it at all. Tears slipped down her face as she watched gas enter the room by an unknown source behind the mask that supplied her with what the others begged for.

* * *

Hershel was extremely pleased to discover that Paul wasn't hyper-active for the car ride. He was incredibly giddy but at least he didn't make them crash, so the Professor had to hand it to him- from the symptoms of the drug that he was under the influence of yesterday, he was very calm compared to others' highs of the following day. He could remember where his hideout was located so there was no hassle in that respect but there was one issue...

"Shotgun!" He had shouted before clambering into the passenger seat of the Laytonmobile; and of course, Luke was not pleased. They argued for the worst part of the journey but remarkably, Don was the adult figure in the 'fight' and surrendered easily. Well, he didn't give up the seat but he no longer took part in the argument.

Currently, they were outside Don's house to search for any clues. In truth, Hershel still harboured deep feelings of anger for what Paul had done. He was brought out of his tiny reverie as Luke asked haughtily, "Why are we 'ere, Professor? Why can't we just take 'im to the Inspector and be done with it?"

The Professor shook his head and watched Don stumble into his house, "No, Luke. Although I would very much like to do that but it is not that simple." Luke cocked his head as he fixed his satchel strap onto his shoulder comfortably.

"Why? Have you worked it all out?"

"Not all of it, but I have a theory. Now, it is true that Paul kidnapped Flora from us and was posing as her for reasons unknown to us. But, he seems to be acting as a pawn in a much larger scheme, also unknown to us. Somehow, Flora is playing an important role in this whole scheme and it seems that all parties included in this stratagem are oblivious to the reasons apart from our new kidnapper. So, we know the outline of whatever this is but we don't know any major details. To find these, we must have Paul to help us find clues and I wish to study the after effects of this drug he was given to determine what type it was as it was most likely used on Flora and the other girls, as this is most certainly linked to the other disappearanc-!"

"Hey fellas! I found somethin'!" Paul's voice came from the open door. Hershel grimaced at being interrupted by the one person he couldn't rightly deal with at that moment, but he followed the voice with Luke reluctantly shadowing him.

They found Paul in what could be assumed to be a living room with its one piece of furniture: a tattered and worn couch that was currently being moved to the adjacent wall. Paul dusted his hands on his coat when he made his way over to the area in question. He beckoned them over.

"Look, I remember this. I stepped on all these shards before I blacked out." He pointed to said shards that lay like menacing teeth on the floor.

The Professor raised his eyebrows before he bent down and carefully picked the broken China up in his handkerchief. He tucked the material into his inside pocket and commented in deep thought almost frivolously, "Very useful indeed." Hershel glanced around the room for any curious hints. With no luck, he turned to the small kitchen. As he sidestepped through the kitchen, for it was far too cramped for a fully grown adult, he checked the cupboards for notes or markings.

Instead, he found... sweets? Paul hated sweet foods of any sort. How peculiar.

"Paul? Why do you...?" Hershel gestured to the shelves in the cupboards when he had his attention. Don grinned.

"Why, for Flora, of course! Why would I have that _crap_ for myself? Come on, Hershel- you know me better than that." No, the Professor thought, I do not, especially with this change of heart from Don. When did he _ever_ take care of his captives? And this 'care' would have been decided and acted upon well before Paul was under the drug's influence...

"... Well, I must thank you for... taking care of my dear Flora. It was a very kind gesture." The Professor tried awkwardly. Surely, if Paul was going to act like this, and not his usual self, he should count his lucky stars.

"Psh!" Paul slapped the air with his hands, "Ah, it was nothin'. Couldn't have her dyin' on me, now could I?" Hershel cleared his throat.

"Of course. Well, I see no reason to stay here. Unless, Luke, have you found anything useful?"

"No, Professor." Luke huffed.

"Well then, shall we move on?" The Professor looked to Paul and Luke again, "We have to find our witness."

* * *

I did a butt-load of research for this drug. Try to guess what group it belongs to.

See you next time and please, please review.


End file.
